Sonya eats like a Holocaust survivor. Whenever it is eating time, which is whenever it is whenever, we cannot keep food in front of her. We set food in front of her. As we turn around, we hear the sound as of a mighty rushing wind. When we look at her again, the food is gone. When she is not sitting in her chair eating, she crawls around under the table eating any particles foolish enough to have fallen there. It doesn't even have to be food. It simply must be small.
That is all.
The semi-whenever newsletter for one of the many Doan Families.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Addie's birthday
April is the sweetest month. My two princesses have their birthdays in this month. My birthday is this month as well. Sunday was Addie's birthday. Search from mountaintop to valley, from Atlanta to Andromeda, from Eden to Armageddon, and you will not find as sweet and precious a little girl as Addie. She and Sonya are the twin stars that circle the meager ball of rock that is me. She is the continual resurrection of joy in my chiseled heart. Her torch eyes burn away the chaff of sorrow. She is my life. She is my Penelope.
Movies you should see.
This past weekend I watched the movie Dear Frankie. It is a couple of years old. It is a small film that wasn't very well known. It is a very good movie. I suggest that you rent and watch it this weekend . It is not your typical Hollywood overly-formulated, overly-sentimental, overly-banal dredge. It is a very sweet, touching, and simple story. It is not depressing, though it could bring tears to your eyes. You ought to see it.
The movie is about a deaf boy named Frankie and his mom. The dad is not in the picture. The mom had told the boy that his father was a sailor on a ship. The boy writes letters to his father. The mom receives them and answers the letters. One day, the boy learns his father's ship is coming to the port where they live. The mother decides to hire a man to play the father for a day.
This seems like a fairly cheesy premise, but, I assure you, it isn't. It is a very heart-warming story. It is funny at times. It is enduring at times. There is not the hint of manipulation or falsity in it. All the actors are very good, especially the little boy. He is able to convey so much without every speaking a line. The story never feels contrived. It is very perceptive about people and relationships. Whether you are a mother, or a father, or a son, or a daughter, you will find something personal in this film.
The story takes place in Ireland, so the strong accents are difficult to follow at first. It is well worth the effort. Rent this film this weekend. It is good.
That is all.
The movie is about a deaf boy named Frankie and his mom. The dad is not in the picture. The mom had told the boy that his father was a sailor on a ship. The boy writes letters to his father. The mom receives them and answers the letters. One day, the boy learns his father's ship is coming to the port where they live. The mother decides to hire a man to play the father for a day.
This seems like a fairly cheesy premise, but, I assure you, it isn't. It is a very heart-warming story. It is funny at times. It is enduring at times. There is not the hint of manipulation or falsity in it. All the actors are very good, especially the little boy. He is able to convey so much without every speaking a line. The story never feels contrived. It is very perceptive about people and relationships. Whether you are a mother, or a father, or a son, or a daughter, you will find something personal in this film.
The story takes place in Ireland, so the strong accents are difficult to follow at first. It is well worth the effort. Rent this film this weekend. It is good.
That is all.
Warning
Yesterday, I drove to Chili's to pick up our dinner. I was listening to a new CD we had recently purchased. I was listening to it rather loudly. I stopped the car in the middle of a song. I ejected the CD and gave it to my wife so she could listen to it on the way to work (she was driving another car). I neglected to tell her that the CD was in the middle of a song and that it was really loud.
Please don't do this to your loved ones.
That is all.
Please don't do this to your loved ones.
That is all.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
POEM IN OCTOBER
It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood
And the mussel pooled and the heron
Priested shore
The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the webbed wall
Myself to set foot
That second
In the still sleeping town and set forth.
My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name
Above the farms and the white horses
And I rose
In a rainy autumn
And walked abroad in shower of all my days
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
Over the border
And the gates
Of the town closed as the town awoke.
A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling
Blackbirds and the sun of October
Summery
On the hill's shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened
To the rain wringing
Wind blow cold
In the wood faraway under me.
Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail
With its horns through mist and the castle
Brown as owls
But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.
There could I marvel
My birthday
Away but the weather turned around.
It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky
Streamed again a wonder of summer
With apples
Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child's
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother
Through the parables
Of sunlight
And the legends of the green chapels
And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.
These were the woods the river and the sea
Where a boy
In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
And the mystery
Sang alive
Still in the water and singing birds.
And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true
Joy of the long dead child sang burning
In the sun.
It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.
O may my heart's truth
Still be sung
On this high hill in a year's turning.
--Dylan Thomas
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
How to be mean.
Scene: An average day at an average school.
1st periodMr. Teacher: No.
Student: Good grief! You don't let us do anything.
Student picks up computer and throws it on the ground.
Mr. Teacher: Student, what are you doing? I am taking you to the office right now.
Student: What? You never said nothing about not throwing computers on the floor. You never let us do anything.
2nd period
Student: Mr. Teacher, can you tell me the answer to question 5 on the test.Mr. Teacher: No.
Student: Can you give me a hint?
Mr. Teacher: No.
Student: Unrelated question, what is the capital of New York?
Mr. Teacher: I can't tell you that right now.
Student: I thought teachers were supposed to help students. Do you want me to fail?
3rd period
Student: Can I listen to my iPod.Mr. Teacher: No.
Student: Can I play my PSP?
Mr. Teacher: No.
Student: Man, school is so freaking boring.
Mr. Teacher: Life if boring. School prepares you.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
What to wear.
There are two kinds to people in the world, those who care what they look like and those who don't. Of those kinds of people who care what they look like, there are two kinds, those who look like they care what they look like and those who look like they don't care what they look like. There are also two kinds of the kind of people who don't care what they look like, those who look like they don't care what they look like, and those who don't look like they don't care what they look like. For the sake of categorization, I am going to call the kind of people who care what they look like M, and those who don't care what they look like N. Those who look like they care what they look like I will call M-1, and those who look like they don't care what they look like I will call M-2. Thus, those who look like they don't care what they look like I will call N-1, and those who don't look like they don't care what they look like I will call N-2.
The question naturally arises, what is the difference between M-2 and N-1, since M-2's look like they don't care what they look like, and N-1's look like the don't care what they look like. The difference is this, N-1's look like they don't care what they look like because they really don't care what they look like, while M-2's look like they don't care what they look like because they actually do care what they look like, they just want to appear to not care what they look like. If you see a M-2 and a N-1 walking down the street, you can instantly tell them apart. The effort that M-2 puts into looking like they don't care what they look like is easily recognizable, thusly establishing the theory that it is impossible to intentionally look like you don't care what you look like. The un-effort N-1 puts into caring what they look like is easily recognizable in the fact that there is no pretension in the appearance that they don't care what they look like.
There are similar similarities between M-1 and N-2, though the differences are substantially different. M-1 really cares what they look like, so they put forth much effort into looking like they care what they look like. N-2 doesn't care at all what they look like, though they don't look like they don't care what they look like. They put forth no effort into looking like they care what they look like, nor do they put forth any effort into not looking like they care what they look like. They simply look like they whatever they look like.
I am not making judgments on any of these people. Personally, though, I feel most people should try to fit into category N-2, without trying too hard to fit in this category. If they try too hard, they will end up in category M-2, which is not as good as category N-2. I feel that both the M categories are unfulfillingly superficial, while category N-1 is greatly lacking in self-respect. Category N-2 maintains a persons self-respect, while not venturing into the treacherous waters of vanity.
I hope that this little post will be of some help to you as you make your fashion decisions.
That is all.
Addendum:
Earlier I said that there are two types of people in the world (which actually subdivides into four types of people, but for the sake of broad generalization, we will stick with two types of people). I wasn't completely right. There are actually 3 types of people in the world, yet I did not include the third category of people since it really isn't a category and it doesn't contain actual people. This third psuedo-category is hip-hop "artists." (I have never used the term "artist" in a broader sense. They are artists much like a person tripping on a sidewalk are artists.) To say that they have a fashion sense is like saying trees have athletic ability. I don't know who gets to decide what is "hip", nor do I know who gets to decide who gets to decide what is hip. I all know is that somebody decided these hip-hopsters get to decide what is "hip" (forever castrating that word), and they decided that miscellany is hip. A hip-hopster could wear a toilet seat around their head (like my daughter did the other day), and suddenly the toilet-seat industry would experience a boom they haven't seen since the ecoli outbreak of '87. I ask you, the common human, which is sillier, wearing a toilet seat around your head, or wearing your pants around your ankles?
That is really all.
The question naturally arises, what is the difference between M-2 and N-1, since M-2's look like they don't care what they look like, and N-1's look like the don't care what they look like. The difference is this, N-1's look like they don't care what they look like because they really don't care what they look like, while M-2's look like they don't care what they look like because they actually do care what they look like, they just want to appear to not care what they look like. If you see a M-2 and a N-1 walking down the street, you can instantly tell them apart. The effort that M-2 puts into looking like they don't care what they look like is easily recognizable, thusly establishing the theory that it is impossible to intentionally look like you don't care what you look like. The un-effort N-1 puts into caring what they look like is easily recognizable in the fact that there is no pretension in the appearance that they don't care what they look like.
There are similar similarities between M-1 and N-2, though the differences are substantially different. M-1 really cares what they look like, so they put forth much effort into looking like they care what they look like. N-2 doesn't care at all what they look like, though they don't look like they don't care what they look like. They put forth no effort into looking like they care what they look like, nor do they put forth any effort into not looking like they care what they look like. They simply look like they whatever they look like.
I am not making judgments on any of these people. Personally, though, I feel most people should try to fit into category N-2, without trying too hard to fit in this category. If they try too hard, they will end up in category M-2, which is not as good as category N-2. I feel that both the M categories are unfulfillingly superficial, while category N-1 is greatly lacking in self-respect. Category N-2 maintains a persons self-respect, while not venturing into the treacherous waters of vanity.
I hope that this little post will be of some help to you as you make your fashion decisions.
That is all.
Addendum:
Earlier I said that there are two types of people in the world (which actually subdivides into four types of people, but for the sake of broad generalization, we will stick with two types of people). I wasn't completely right. There are actually 3 types of people in the world, yet I did not include the third category of people since it really isn't a category and it doesn't contain actual people. This third psuedo-category is hip-hop "artists." (I have never used the term "artist" in a broader sense. They are artists much like a person tripping on a sidewalk are artists.) To say that they have a fashion sense is like saying trees have athletic ability. I don't know who gets to decide what is "hip", nor do I know who gets to decide who gets to decide what is hip. I all know is that somebody decided these hip-hopsters get to decide what is "hip" (forever castrating that word), and they decided that miscellany is hip. A hip-hopster could wear a toilet seat around their head (like my daughter did the other day), and suddenly the toilet-seat industry would experience a boom they haven't seen since the ecoli outbreak of '87. I ask you, the common human, which is sillier, wearing a toilet seat around your head, or wearing your pants around your ankles?
That is really all.
How to be successful
Watch this video, which is an actual video resume sent to some big Wall Street accounting firm. It is around 6 minutes long.
This second video is a great parody of the first. It was made by Michael Cera, who was in my all-time favorite sit-com, "Arrested Development." It is extremely funny.
This second video is a great parody of the first. It was made by Michael Cera, who was in my all-time favorite sit-com, "Arrested Development." It is extremely funny.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
New photo album
If you go to my Picasa Web Albums, you can see the newest photos. These photos include those from April birthday party, as well as those from our trip to the aquarium. There are some miscellanous other pictures you may enjoy. Enjoy.
That is all.
That is all.
Sonya's Birthday
There are two little princesses (actually, princi) in my life. One of them turns 1 year old today. She is absolutely lovely, even if Dadda forgets to wipe her face every so often. She received some really nice presents, and judging by how much her big brother and sister love them, she is really going to love them in few years. She is almost ready to walk completely on her own. Within months I expect her to be as much of an electron as her bigger sister. She can speak a couple of words, but only when she wants to, and never when Momma or Dadda want her to. Her smile, with her four teeth, is irristible. A child's cutality increases exponentially with each tooth, for some reason. At this rate, she is going to be causing wars by the time she gets all of them. On numerous occassions I will go into the girls' room at night to tell them to be quiet and go to sleep. Normally, Sonya looks at me and gives me a Hellenic smile. At that point, I would buy her Nebraska if she asked me. She is my little baby girl. I love her endlessly. She is my Dulcinea.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Great title
This is the best blog-post title I have seen in a while.
Bilateral Asymmetry in a Preiconoclastic Encaustic Pantocrator
Bilateral Asymmetry in a Preiconoclastic Encaustic Pantocrator
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
A Clear Midnight
THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.
--Walt Whitman
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best.
Night, sleep, and the stars.
--Walt Whitman
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Tough guy
Turn down the sound (if you don't want to hear the yelling Japanese announcer) and watch this guy complete this insanely complicated obstacle course.
When will I learn?
There are things that we do that, after we have done them, we tell ourselves that we will never do them again. Yet, even though we are adamant when we tell ourselves that we will never do it again, soon enough we do it again, causing us much grief and consternation, and causing the whole process to begin anew.
Every time I go to any Wal-Mart, I tell myself I will never go again. They are always crowed. They are always messy and cluttery. There is never enough checkout checkers. It is never a fun experience. And yet, like the proverbial dog, I return. How foolish I am! How can I think that it is ever even minutely more convenient to go the Wal-Hell? Foolish, foolish man.
I pledge that I will never, under any circumstances (save eminent danger to the health of my family) go to any W-He on the face of the planet. The only reason for which I would recant is that W-H made some serious reforms.
Reform Number One: They must have at least 10 check-out checkers on duty at all times of the day. Whenever I go to W-H, there is never more than three open checkout lines. There is usually 20-30 people waiting in those lines. This doesn't make sense. Whenever I go to Target, there are almost always enough checkers. I don't have to wait in line very long. Target knows how to do things. When I went to W-H last night (which is what provoked this diatribe), there where around 3 lines open. Two of those lines were the "Self-checkout lines." There were several self-checkout lines that were unopened. I could not fathom why this was so. That brings up the next several reforms.
Reform Number Two: They must have an item limit for the self-checkout lines. In one of the self-checkout lines, the one at which I found myself, some lady was buying food for the Donner Party. Normally, there is a limit as to how many items you can have in such a line. There was no such limit at this store, and the fine lady took advantage of that. Thankfully, she had two small children with her to enable her to take even more time in the line. However, the number of items and the number of children was not the biggest problem. The biggest problem was her ineptitude.
Thus, Reform Number Three: There should be an entrance exam people must pass in order to use the self-checkout. I suggest a computer at the front of the line where people have to answer some questions before they can proceed. These could be basic questions. like "Which of these things is not the others?" or "How many apples can you buy for $1 if apples are $1 apiece?" Those that pass the exam can use the line. Those the can't will need to go to one of the old-fashioned lines.
These are three simple reforms that W-H could easily implement, should they be inclined to do so. Until they do, let it be known that I pull all my support from W-H. Furthermore, I will do everything in my power to make sure everyone that I know does the same. I hope to be the MLK of grocery store reform. Tell your friends. Tell your loved ones. Tell your loved ones' friends and your friends' loved ones to boycott that evil-eyed eater of existence, that tedious traitor of time, that devious destroyer of decency, that spurious slasher of sensibility, Wal-Mart.
That is all.
Every time I go to any Wal-Mart, I tell myself I will never go again. They are always crowed. They are always messy and cluttery. There is never enough checkout checkers. It is never a fun experience. And yet, like the proverbial dog, I return. How foolish I am! How can I think that it is ever even minutely more convenient to go the Wal-Hell? Foolish, foolish man.
I pledge that I will never, under any circumstances (save eminent danger to the health of my family) go to any W-He on the face of the planet. The only reason for which I would recant is that W-H made some serious reforms.
Reform Number One: They must have at least 10 check-out checkers on duty at all times of the day. Whenever I go to W-H, there is never more than three open checkout lines. There is usually 20-30 people waiting in those lines. This doesn't make sense. Whenever I go to Target, there are almost always enough checkers. I don't have to wait in line very long. Target knows how to do things. When I went to W-H last night (which is what provoked this diatribe), there where around 3 lines open. Two of those lines were the "Self-checkout lines." There were several self-checkout lines that were unopened. I could not fathom why this was so. That brings up the next several reforms.
Reform Number Two: They must have an item limit for the self-checkout lines. In one of the self-checkout lines, the one at which I found myself, some lady was buying food for the Donner Party. Normally, there is a limit as to how many items you can have in such a line. There was no such limit at this store, and the fine lady took advantage of that. Thankfully, she had two small children with her to enable her to take even more time in the line. However, the number of items and the number of children was not the biggest problem. The biggest problem was her ineptitude.
Thus, Reform Number Three: There should be an entrance exam people must pass in order to use the self-checkout. I suggest a computer at the front of the line where people have to answer some questions before they can proceed. These could be basic questions. like "Which of these things is not the others?" or "How many apples can you buy for $1 if apples are $1 apiece?" Those that pass the exam can use the line. Those the can't will need to go to one of the old-fashioned lines.
These are three simple reforms that W-H could easily implement, should they be inclined to do so. Until they do, let it be known that I pull all my support from W-H. Furthermore, I will do everything in my power to make sure everyone that I know does the same. I hope to be the MLK of grocery store reform. Tell your friends. Tell your loved ones. Tell your loved ones' friends and your friends' loved ones to boycott that evil-eyed eater of existence, that tedious traitor of time, that devious destroyer of decency, that spurious slasher of sensibility, Wal-Mart.
That is all.
Monday, April 09, 2007
I am not the only one
I agree with everything on this page, except for everything it says about everything other than "Arrested Development." I am a big AD fan. No show in TV history was more funny. I own all three seasons on DVD. I can watch them now and still catch some jokes I didn't in the first 4 or 5 viewings. I even caught some things in synopsis that I didn't catch before.
If you never watched the show, and by watched the show, I mean watched an entire season of the show, you missed out. It is so very funny. I laugh every time I think of the "chicken dance." I don't like catch-phrases that much, but I find myself saying, "Come on!" and, "Hey, sister-in-law" every now-and-then. Every character on the show is my favorite character. I laugh whenever I hear or see anything that reminds me of one of them.
I really enjoy the recurring jokes of the show. Like the aforementioned dance and salutation. Also, "That was a freebie," or "She doesn't know what she is saying," or "It is not a trick. It is an illusion," or "But where did the pennies come from?" This was a great show.
If you have never seen it, come over to my house and we can watch all 53 episodes together. "This party will be off the hook."
That is all.
If you never watched the show, and by watched the show, I mean watched an entire season of the show, you missed out. It is so very funny. I laugh every time I think of the "chicken dance." I don't like catch-phrases that much, but I find myself saying, "Come on!" and, "Hey, sister-in-law" every now-and-then. Every character on the show is my favorite character. I laugh whenever I hear or see anything that reminds me of one of them.
I really enjoy the recurring jokes of the show. Like the aforementioned dance and salutation. Also, "That was a freebie," or "She doesn't know what she is saying," or "It is not a trick. It is an illusion," or "But where did the pennies come from?" This was a great show.
If you have never seen it, come over to my house and we can watch all 53 episodes together. "This party will be off the hook."
That is all.
Saturday, April 07, 2007
Taxes
April is the cruelest month.
I have just finished doing my taxes. I have no idea why I waited so long. But, as far as I can tell, they are done.
I usually get really nervous around this time. I wonder if I did something wrong on my return. I am afraid to answer the door (thankfully, no one ever visits me) and answer the phone (thankfully no one calls me), thinking it could be some black-suit clad G-men coming to arrest me and put me to work in the Gulag. That may never happen, but it might as well. Our financial records are as organized as the North Dakota Film Society. If we were to be audited, we would have to flee to Egypt.
This year I am especially nervous. According to my good buddy TurboTax, we stand to get a substantial (for us) refund. This is not good. Something cannot be right. Our return was particularly complicated this year, as, between Jenni and myself, we received 7 different W-2s. Much of the money my wife earned she earned from the same company from two different states. This, additionally, is self-employment income. Our taxes could only be more complicated if we were Ken Lay and Martha Stewart (if Ken Lay were alive a married to Martha Stewart--I would be Martha).
Thusly, I am simultaneously ecstatic and eeire. I am watching as many prison films and listening to as much Johnny Cash as I can to prepare myself for my stay in a minimum security prison. I am also swallowing as many keys as I can (thank you, GOB Bluth). Please keep me in your prayers.
That is all.
I have just finished doing my taxes. I have no idea why I waited so long. But, as far as I can tell, they are done.
I usually get really nervous around this time. I wonder if I did something wrong on my return. I am afraid to answer the door (thankfully, no one ever visits me) and answer the phone (thankfully no one calls me), thinking it could be some black-suit clad G-men coming to arrest me and put me to work in the Gulag. That may never happen, but it might as well. Our financial records are as organized as the North Dakota Film Society. If we were to be audited, we would have to flee to Egypt.
This year I am especially nervous. According to my good buddy TurboTax, we stand to get a substantial (for us) refund. This is not good. Something cannot be right. Our return was particularly complicated this year, as, between Jenni and myself, we received 7 different W-2s. Much of the money my wife earned she earned from the same company from two different states. This, additionally, is self-employment income. Our taxes could only be more complicated if we were Ken Lay and Martha Stewart (if Ken Lay were alive a married to Martha Stewart--I would be Martha).
Thusly, I am simultaneously ecstatic and eeire. I am watching as many prison films and listening to as much Johnny Cash as I can to prepare myself for my stay in a minimum security prison. I am also swallowing as many keys as I can (thank you, GOB Bluth). Please keep me in your prayers.
That is all.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Kids these days
Some people, I don't know who, but they know who they are, might be wondering what my kids are doing these days. If they were to ask me, which they haven't, I would tell them, if I could, that my kids are doing all sorts of crazy things. They are generally being kids, and doing things that generally kids do. So if you know what kids generally do, you have a general idea of what my kids are doing.
Aidan.
He is a savant. He is only 4, yet he knows all the letters in the alphabet, and he can count up to 30. You may not find this unusual, but I work with 4th graders that can't do those things. We have a box full of letters meant for crafty projects. Aidan loves playing with them. He likes spelling out words that he sees with the letters. As far as I can see (I am usually wrong about everything), he does not know what words he is spelling. He simply matches the letters he sees, whether it be from one of his games, or from a refrigerator magnet, or from a cereal box. I tell you, at this rate, he will surpass Stephen King's ability in about 3 years. He is a smart, sweet kid.
Addie.
What can I say about my little blond ball of mischief? She is an adventure that would scare away Aeneas. She doesn't seem to be as interested in letters and numbers as Aidan. She seems more adept at manipulation. Somehow, daddy always gets her what she wants. She is well on the road to being completely house-broken. The other day, she was going "poopey" (those who are not parents of 2-year-olds will have to excuse the technical language). I went into the bathroom to check on her. There was water all over the bathroom. She looked at me and said she had washed her hands. I thought to myself, "That is strange. She cannot reach the faucet." At this point I warily looked into the toilet, which conspicuously had little water in it. Somehow, the neglectful parents that we are, we had forgotten to teach her to not wash her hands in the toilet. Memo to parents: teach your children that only items that go in the toilet are wee-wee and woo-woo. Thankfully, I did not see any fecal matter on the floor. She does know to flush the commode.
Sonya.
If anyone knows where we could buy an inexpensive tiara, Sonya needs one. She is not yet one year old, and she thinks she is queen of the house. She is as smart as Aidan, and as manipulative as Addie. The combination makes here more volatile and demanding than the entire British royal family. She is extremely mobile. She can travel from any point on our lower floor to any other point in less than 10 seconds. She now knows how to climb the stairs. Unfortunately, she doesn't know how to de-climb the stairs, making her the subject of constant scrutiny. We have decided to forgo buying a vacuum, as she picks up and eats all food and non-food particles on the floor. I will not tell you what she ate at my parents house when my brother and his wife brought their dogs over. Speaking of poop, I am surprised we don't see more lint in Sonya's.
These kids are treasures, and I treasure the time I spend with them. We are blessed to have such delightful kids. I have some more great pictures that I will be posting shortly.
That is all.
Aidan.
He is a savant. He is only 4, yet he knows all the letters in the alphabet, and he can count up to 30. You may not find this unusual, but I work with 4th graders that can't do those things. We have a box full of letters meant for crafty projects. Aidan loves playing with them. He likes spelling out words that he sees with the letters. As far as I can see (I am usually wrong about everything), he does not know what words he is spelling. He simply matches the letters he sees, whether it be from one of his games, or from a refrigerator magnet, or from a cereal box. I tell you, at this rate, he will surpass Stephen King's ability in about 3 years. He is a smart, sweet kid.
Addie.
What can I say about my little blond ball of mischief? She is an adventure that would scare away Aeneas. She doesn't seem to be as interested in letters and numbers as Aidan. She seems more adept at manipulation. Somehow, daddy always gets her what she wants. She is well on the road to being completely house-broken. The other day, she was going "poopey" (those who are not parents of 2-year-olds will have to excuse the technical language). I went into the bathroom to check on her. There was water all over the bathroom. She looked at me and said she had washed her hands. I thought to myself, "That is strange. She cannot reach the faucet." At this point I warily looked into the toilet, which conspicuously had little water in it. Somehow, the neglectful parents that we are, we had forgotten to teach her to not wash her hands in the toilet. Memo to parents: teach your children that only items that go in the toilet are wee-wee and woo-woo. Thankfully, I did not see any fecal matter on the floor. She does know to flush the commode.
Sonya.
If anyone knows where we could buy an inexpensive tiara, Sonya needs one. She is not yet one year old, and she thinks she is queen of the house. She is as smart as Aidan, and as manipulative as Addie. The combination makes here more volatile and demanding than the entire British royal family. She is extremely mobile. She can travel from any point on our lower floor to any other point in less than 10 seconds. She now knows how to climb the stairs. Unfortunately, she doesn't know how to de-climb the stairs, making her the subject of constant scrutiny. We have decided to forgo buying a vacuum, as she picks up and eats all food and non-food particles on the floor. I will not tell you what she ate at my parents house when my brother and his wife brought their dogs over. Speaking of poop, I am surprised we don't see more lint in Sonya's.
These kids are treasures, and I treasure the time I spend with them. We are blessed to have such delightful kids. I have some more great pictures that I will be posting shortly.
That is all.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Coach moving
Gail Goestenkors is leaving Duke University for the University of Texas. I didn't watch any of the Women's Tournament this year. I was startled to hear that Duke lost in the 3rd round. They had a tremendous season. I hoped this would be the year for them to win it all (I still don't know who won last night). So goes it.
The problem now for Duke is to find another great coach with a Eastern European name.
That is all
The problem now for Duke is to find another great coach with a Eastern European name.
That is all
HDTV
For those of you looking for a nice HDTV, you can get a 42" LCD HDTV shipped to your house for under $900, while supplies last. Good day for you.
That is all.
That is all.
Monday, April 02, 2007
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